A porch ran the entire length of the lower story, with a roof that jutted out from the body of the house and a floor raised about six inches off the ground, made of heavy lumber planks. There were several tables and quite a few chairs scattered around on the porch. The roof of the porch, just like the roof of the house, was constructed of the red clay tiles found on houses of quality all over Mexico and along the border.
When Longarm was within a hundred yards of the place, the road dipped off to the left and a little driveway continued on toward the house. He veered to his right, pulling his horse down to a walk. It was time to start getting cautious. He looked back, thinking he might see some sign of Austin Davis tailing him, but the country was too thick with brush and groves of mesquite and stunted post oak. Austin Davis could have been within shouting range and Longarm wouldn’t have seen him. Besides, he wasn’t even sure that Davis was coming.
There was a hitching rail right in front of the porch, and he stopped his horse just short of it and sat the saddle for a moment, studying the house, especially the windows and the upper story. As he’d neared the place, he’d seen a few women working around the back, but they appeared to be intent on the wash and a kitchen garden. There had been a couple of horses in the corral, but they’d looked as if they been there for some time. Both had been standing three-legged, resting one leg, their heads down, baking in the sun. Other than that, Longarm had seen no movement about the place. If Raoul San Diego was at home, he was either still in bed or not at all curious about who might be approaching. Neither he nor anyone else had appeared in any of the windows. For that matter, Longarm wondered if Dulcima was around. He didn’t know what the custom was at this particular house, but if he’d lived here, with the reputation that Raoul San Diego had, one of the women working out back had better have come in and announced that someone was approaching or she’d have been out of a job. Yet none of the servants had paid Longarm the slightest attention, and, he figured, if he could see them, they could see him.
He climbed slowly out of the saddle and took a second to loosen his revolver in the much bigger, cutaway holster he was wearing. Then he tied his horse to the rail, took three strides and stepped up on the porch.
The front door was a large, wooden affair without a screen. It was ornate, and Longarm took it to be mahogany or some other exotic wood. He lifted the brass knocker and gave a light tap or two on the door. He waited a moment and no one came. He lifted the knocker again and was about to bang harder, when the door was suddenly pulled wide open. For a second he couldn’t see into the dim interior. He knew someone was standing right in front of him, and he could tell it was a woman by the shape and the faint scent of perfume, but he couldn’t see clearly. “I’ve come to see Raoul San Diego,” he said. “I’ve got business.”
“That ees right. You have beesness, but your beesness ees with me.”
Then Longarm’s eyes adjusted and he could clearly see that it was Dulcima. For a moment he was so startled by the way she was dressed that he opened his mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say. She stood before him, in her bare feet, with a serape around her neck. It was highly colored and gay, with tassels, and it came down to just below her knees. It covered her breasts and the left and right of her front, but it was open in the middle revealing her nude body. He could see the shining blackness of her thick pubic hair, could see the faintly dusky silk of her inner thighs, the faint rise of her belly with its small navel. He swallowed and stammered out something and was about to step back, when, with a quick motion, she took the serape off over head and flipped it around his neck. The next thing he knew she was pulling him into the house as neatly as a roped calf. He said, still stammering, “Dulcima, wha-What the hell, uh, are you doing?”
“You have come to see me, no?” she said.
He stared at her. He couldn’t help himself. She was one of those small-boned, small-waisted women with outsized breasts. Hers were as big as grapefruits, each crowned by a nipple as big as a strawberry and as brown as a ripe fig. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman’s body so lavish and luscious, so inviting, so made for love. “Dulcima,” he said hoarsely, “you trying to get me killed? I’m standing under San Diego’s roof and his woman is standing in front of me naked.”
She had come to a stop after pulling him into the middle of a big tiled room. She let go of the serape so that it fell around his sides. “Bah,” she said. “I am not hees woman and theese ees not hees roof. This ees my house.”
Longarm was having trouble with his breathing and his jeans had gotten far too tight. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. They roved between her big, erect breasts and the fascinating, glistening patch of hair that grew at the apex of her legs. Wanting to back away, he said, “Listen, what is going on here? Where is San Diego?”
She shrugged. “He has gone across the river. He does hees business there. So he say to me. I doan care where he ees. I like you the first time I see you. I theenk we go make love now.”
He reached up and quickly took the serape from around his neck and returned it to hers. “I think I better get the hell out of here,” he said, “while I still can. I got a feeling San Diego is liable to come walking in any second with a gun in each fist.”
Dulcima cocked her head and looked at him. “Why you want to make theese kind of talk? You are not escared of Raoul. I doan theenk you are escared of anybody. Why you talk like that? Who you trying to fool? You doan fool Dulcima.”
He looked around. The room they were in was big and furnished with heavy Mexican furniture. A door to his right obviously led to some kind of dining room and on into a kitchen. The door to his left was closed. A staircase along the right-hand wall led up to a small landing on the second floor. “Who is in this house?” he asked her.
She reached out and took his hand and pulled it to her, laying it between her breasts and holding it there with both her hands. “There ees nobody in theese house except for us. Mi mozos, my servants, are working outside. I have been watching for you since theese morning.”
He looked at her, feeling the almost electric heat of her body through his hand. “You couldn’t have known I was coming out here.”
“I look for you every morning. Since we talk in the plaza, I knew you would come.”
“But I came to see San Diego.”
“Fah on San Diego!” She stamped her bare foot on the smooth tiles. “I throw heem out! He does not leeve at theese place no more.”
“I thought you said he was gone to Mexico?”
“He ees gone to Mexico. Fah! He ees not here. What you care where ees theese man named Raoul San Diego? He look like a man, he act like a man, but he not really a man. He fool all the people, but he no fool Dulcima.” She grasped Longarm’s wrist with both hands and started walking backwards, pulling him along, toward the stairs. “You come with Dulcima. I much want to play with all of your body.”
He went reluctantly. His breath was coming rapidly and he was aroused so that his heart was going fast enough for him to feel it. But he was suspicious and worried that it might be a trap of some kind. “What do you want with me, Dulcima?” he asked. “You could have your pick of the men in town. Hell, in the county. Maybe in the whole state.”
She held his eyes with hers. She was on the first step and stepping backwards for the second. “I theenk you are mucho hombre. Much man. I am never wrong about theese theengs. You come with Dulcima and we will feel good.”